


Rather Live With Broken Bones, Than a Broken Soul

by tBrilli4ntD4rkness



Series: Against the Light [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: AKA the 1800s, Angst, Arranged Marriage to avoid homophobic persecution (no incest), Basically a metric ton of trigger warnings, Civil Unrest, Does it count as Hurt/Comfort if it‘s mostly hurt?, Established Relationship, Featuring Dave as trying his best to be a good parent, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Minor Religious Themes, Multi, Period-Typical Racism, Period-Typical Sexism, Read this if you want to get angry, Referenced Religious and Political Conflict, Set in the 19th century, Tar & Feathering, Technically Homophobia, Think I just made up a bunch of new tags, You‘re Welcome, and maybe cry, but it ends well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:48:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25929163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tBrilli4ntD4rkness/pseuds/tBrilli4ntD4rkness
Summary: Dave, Rose, and their respective partners live on the knife‘s edge of what ‘society‘ considers ‘acceptable‘. Sometimes the knife twitches, and all they can do is try to salvage the aftermath.-----Not tagged with Graphic Violence because I subscribe to the letter of the law, and technically Dave spaces out. So for a given definition of ‘graphic‘, this still counts as Teen and willful ignorance of tag use on my behalf.
Relationships: Background Karkat Vantas & Kanaya Maryam, Dave Strider & Karkat Vantas, Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas, Kanaya Maryam & Dave Strider, Rose Lalonde & Dave Strider, background rose lalonde/kanaya maryam
Series: Against the Light [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1881793
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	Rather Live With Broken Bones, Than a Broken Soul

**Author's Note:**

> If you knew where I got the inspiration for this from, you‘d probably call it sacrilegious. But basically nothing is sacred in HS anyway, so it‘s pro‘ly alright.
> 
> Also, it turns out that chloroform and ether are much more dangerous than I first thought, and not safe to be administered at home. (Sorry Dave, I tried, I really did.)  
> Google has to consider me a concern for societal safety at this point.  
> The deal with the 。s is that I’m trying out a symbol for something there should be in the Latin alphabet - whisper marks - and there is a good deal of quiet talking in this fic.
> 
> ***US Political reference only used for historical depiction. Please don‘t @ me about any politics in the comments. I‘m staying neutral on this (very) explosive subject and will not reply.***

They came in the middle of the night on feet too silent for the lumbering oafs they were. He should have been able to take them, some of them at least, to fight back and protect his small struggling family. But he didn‘t even hear the creaking of wood until it was too late.

Dave Strider had been up for hours with the baby - one of Rose‘s, that she and Kanaya had adopted - trying to get the tiny human to stop wailing and sleep. The kid had been sick for a couple of weeks, long enough and severe enough that all four of them had had to face the thought of losing one of their children. It wasn‘t the first time, and it most likely wouldn‘t be the last. Life was rough and a game against the odds to survive near the frontier, even with living in town, for better or worse as the case may be.

He‘d finally gotten the baby to sleep, without any of the more drastic measures some parents employed. No matter how frayed his nerves were or how exhausted he was, Dave refused to stoop to adding a shot of your-choice-of-alcohol to the milk for a little peace and quiet. Which was why he tended to be the one awake in the middle of the night, when Kanaya and everyone else were ready to throw in the towel and buy whatever affordable sedatives were necessary, as was the case this night. Dave had been about to sit down and finally, finally try to get unconscious himself when some learned and innate warning flashed up his spine, a feeling more than a reaction to sound, and he spun around.

Dave had only a moment to acknowledge the shadowy figure (figures?) in the doorway before rough fabric was being shoved over his head, blocking out nearly everything, and an arm was pressing into his windpipe. Dave scrabbled for a moment, glad at least that he‘d blown out the candle and didn‘t have to worry about setting the house on fire, but a hit to the solar plexus send him keeling forward, gasping on the last of his air.

”Don‘t try nothin‘ an‘ maybe we won‘t take ya sista and ya lil wife along,” a rancid voice sneered near his ear. ”Or maybe do, an‘ they can have some fun with th‘ boys。”

Dave stiffened at the unsubtle threat, and clenched his fists as he was dragged bodily out the door. One of the men shoved him from behind as they went over the single front step, sending Dave face-first into the dust of the road, his spine cracking after having sat and stood so long in the same positions. He dragged himself to his knees in time to receive a fist in the jaw, but still he didn‘t make a sound. He wouldn‘t have even without the threat of rape on the two women most important in his life. Rose was a crack shot with a rifle, but these men would have town favor on their side, and Dave‘s little family would be lucky to get run out of town instead of into a murderous mob if she killed one.

Someone hauled Dave to his feet and shoved him in a direction away from the house. He staggered a few feet down the road, head reeling as he tried to get a sense of his attackers, forcing the rush of adrenaline in his system to sharpen his focus.

He recognized the voice of the man who‘d spoken; he was an old fundamentalist drunkard who couldn‘t keep his opinions to himself. There were other footsteps around him now, at least one on either side of him, and the creaking of wooden boards from inside the house. Four at least, no more than six. It was harder than it should have been to keep track of their positions, between the hood and the darkness, and the pounding in Dave‘s head. Why tonight - had they been watching him, waiting for a chance when he was half dead on his feet and could hardly fight back, or was this a spur of the moment decision by some riled and drunk men leaving the tavern late? Why now, when his kid was sick and the nights were still cold and they didn‘t have the decency or frame of mind to at least close the door?

It was apparent they wanted him alone for this, snatching him quiet in the night when they could have rounded up everyone in the house and threatened them with violence and blood or murder by blunt force trauma. Dave half hoped these cockamamie idiots _had_ kept their movements muffled enough that the whole charade wouldn‘t wake his people. He‘d been alone in the kitchen/eating area/parlor so to disturb those in the back bedrooms as little as possible; two bedrooms, such a luxury when one wasn‘t even being rented out for boarders or hired hands. Not that anyone knew the actual setup of those bedrooms.

Hands grabbed him from either side, with a knee shoved into Dave‘s back for good measure, but they‘d only made it a few feet before Dave heard yelling behind them.

”Get your filthy hands off my brother, right. Now.”

No, Rose. No.

Her voice was pitched low and full of controlled anger, promised violence that wasn‘t proper for a woman to command.

”Missus Vantas,” a condescending male voice began. Dave didn‘t recognize it; someone he didn‘t know, perhaps, the town wasn‘t huge but it wasn‘t population-two-hundred-podunkville either, or a man from one of the western-bound clans that had stopped in for a drink. Still, strangers usually knew better than to get involved in technically illegal activities, and Rose wasn‘t famous - or infamous - enough for anyone who popped by to know her name.

”I suggest that unless you want a bullet through your miserable excuse for a functional skull--” Rose‘s voice broke off with a stifled yelp and the resounding smack of flesh hitting flesh. Dave‘s blood boiled as his abductors continued to haul him away, his feet catching on stones on the uneven ground.

Rose didn‘t scream or cry out, but she didn‘t rage either. A thin wail rose from the house as the commotion woke the baby Dave had spent so long getting to bed. The man‘s voice was scornful as he hissed, ”Why don‘t you mind your own business like a good wife and take care of your little brat?” There was no raised question in his tone, and Dave heard loud footsteps coming towards the group immediately after.

With his head still swimming, Dave couldn‘t keep track of where he was being taken or how many minutes it had been. The texture of the ground under his bare feet went from dust to gravel to grass and leaves quickly, which meant he was being taken towards the shrubby woods. Which was . . interesting, probably. He really didn‘t have the brain power to consider the implications of this not happening on a public street corner.

Maybe it wouldn‘t be so brutal to his ego when they broke him. Or, well, unless he died first. Open field seemed like a good start to half-hiding a body. Wasn‘t that a pleasant thought.

”Is it ready?” One of the men holding him whisper-hissed, quiet enough Dave had to strain to make it out.

An annoyed huff, then a voice that was both louder and not as close by. ”Yeah, yeah, I‘m goin‘.”

That was ominous, but not any more so than anything else that had happened in the last tennish minutes. And it upped the count to five, with four distinct male voices and another quiet man gripping Dave‘s other side hard enough for his nails to sting. Dave was definitely getting bruises out of this venture, under whatever else was going down.

Then he was being shoved to the ground again, this time landing with the hood half off and his neck tickled by long strands of grass. Dave wriggled until the chafing material cleared his forehead enough to see with one eye, but his hands were still bound and there wasn‘t much to see besides the outlines of flora against the starlight. A foot rolled him roughly onto his side, uncomfortably cracking his back the other direction. Dave exhaled slowly without opening his mouth, determined not to make a sound. They wouldn‘t get so much as a hiss of pain out of him without a few bruised knuckles and dislocated minor appendages on their part.

Someone else - Dave could hear the heavy breathing of the kicker above him - socked him in the gut again, causing Dave to clench in his teeth, and then clocked his cheek under his eye hard enough Dave knew the bone would be tender by tomorrow. Tomorrow, technically very early today. Dave closed his eyes and let the three men have their amusement, only grunting and curling in on himself when one kick targeted his groin. Better him than Karkat, who couldn‘t stand seeing someone in pain and always made Rose or Kanaya butcher the hen when they could afford to eat a chicken. Better him than Rose, who already agreed to this insane plan for family to begin with, and refused to put up with his lunacy on a daily basis. Better him than Kanaya, who married a man she wasn‘t the slightest bit attracted to because she trusted him not to take advantage of her or her cousin, and who would have so much worse done to her than a beating if it was her here instead.

Hands pushed roughly on his throat, and Dave‘s eyes flew open to see the leering figure above him. No matter how he twisted and turned, he was too pinned down to move, too dazed to put the combat training drilled down his throat to use. Blackness filled his vision, but just before he passed out, the hands slipped away and the men laughed as Dave drew in a sudden, desperate breath, loathing the weakness in him that courted the helplessness of sleep over alertness and pain.

”Yer demon eyes can‘t save ya?” The man who had first cornered him mocked.

Dave glowered at the man. His iris color might have been a sore subject, but it wasn‘t like he hadn‘t heard worse his entire life. These men could at least find a more creative reason than pulling the same game time and again.

Another smirked conspiratorially. ”Nor do they give ‘im a lick a sense, votin‘ for that what‘s-‘is-name Republican candid _ate_. Still got yer highfalutin‘ morals there, city boy?”

The words pulled Dave from his trance enough to feel true rage building under his skin, and he growled low in his throat. ”What do you _want_ ,” he seethed, infusing as much threat and danger into the words as he could.

They just chortled again, not that Dave had been expecting an answer.

Across the field, a man shouted and a couple of Dave‘s captors took off in his direction, leaving the others distracted. Dave went very still, subtly flexing his hands around the ropes binding them. If he could trip one of the men, push him into the other, that would give Dave a few seconds‘ head start. The bonds were tight, though, cutting off his circulation somewhat painfully as time passed, and each huff of breath he took sent a sting from one of his ribs, cracked at the least. Could he even outrun them, barefoot in the darkness with who knew how many burrow holes underfoot?

His chance passed him by with a sharp rap on his skull; he‘d been too stiff for too long, calculating. Swaying lantern light reflected on the trees. Dave narrowed his eyes, glancing over his shoulder as best he could to see two men carrying an apparently heavy pail between them. As they approached, he made out a flopping bag as well.

Something deep in Dave‘s mind thrummed with warning at the scene, even before he was being hoisted on his knees and the man behind him began ripping his shirt off. Dave resisted as well he could, wriggling like an eel to avoid being disrobed. The lantern light was dim so as not to alert any awake bystanders, but would surely have been enough to make out the scars crisscrossing Dave‘s upper body. The only person who‘d seen those scars besides his siblings was Karkat, the man who traced them with soft fingers and kissed him, telling Dave that he didn‘t care he was broken and tainted, and revealing his own. And these people - these backwater bigots who smelled of rum and the wrong end of a public toilet - didn‘t _deserve_ to have that kind of privilege.

Dave leaned forward, forcing the man behind him to lean in as well, and rocked his head back as hard and fast as he could. A sharp crunch and a half-muffled shout let Dave know he‘d hit his mark, but even as the man swore and covered his bleeding nasal feature other hands were on Dave, hitting him on the side of the neck with a surprising amount of pain and holding him still until they could finish. Dave snapped at a pair of fingers on his shoulder and was slapped on the head, stinging where he‘d already been punched.

Too soon, cold night air was around his bare flesh, but the men were too busy or didn‘t care enough to comment on the webbing of silvery marks. Dave gritted his teeth and prepared himself for what was coming. A coarse-looking brush was dipped into the bucket of pine tar, the man who held it grinning positively gleeful as he did so. For the first time this night, Dave felt properly afraid.

He‘d thought after escaping his father‘s house at fourteen he could handle any form of physical suffering or emotional torment life or fate or society chose to visit upon him. And for the most part, he‘d been proven correct. Meeting Karkat, becoming close with him, had been an exquisite type of agony, longing for someone who would surely refuse him if he did the culturally unthinkable and ever asked. Having him was something similar, waking up more often than not (even after nearly four years) convinced it was all a terrible fantasy, all the more cruel for its loveliness. And always the fear that Dave would lose him, he‘d lose Karkat to a thousand unforeseen pitfalls as they defied the acceptable, and then he‘d lose one of the few people he truly trusted, the only person he trusted this particular way.

And there were physical things as well. For all that Dave‘s father, not that he‘d been much more of an aspiration as the donor of half his genetic code, had forced Dave to fight until he was sick of combat and confrontation to his very soul, it had always been with blades and shoves and disgusted looks. Dave hadn‘t learned to fear fire and burns the same way he feared silence pregnant with danger, but the heated tar was unknown to him in its weaponized form, and that was nearly just as bad.

Pine tar didn‘t need much heating to become a sticky mess, not even as much as was necessary to boil water, but that didn‘t mean it was a remotely pleasant experience to be coated with it. Stiff, sharp bristles scratched Dave‘s skin, worsening the wild burning as the black substance was applied. After only three passes, Dave quivered with trying to hold himself still and upright, hands pulling on his hair roughly to keep his head back and neck exposed.

Dave growled and spit, unbound feet twitching in subconscious reaction to the searing pain his nerves relayed. His mind scrabbled for something as a distraction, and quickly found fury to be appropriate.

The human-shaped beasts holding him guffawed their mirth like too-familiar sadists and lobbed insults at him, moving on to Kanaya when they couldn‘t get a rise from demeaning his ancestors three generations back. Their words clogged the air, fast spreading poison in comparison to the glancing blows earlier. It infuriated him how casually they insulted his family, calling Kanaya a whore and a great deal of other things he shut his eyes against, insinuating that she‘d beguiled him into marrying a bound servant of the lowest of all classes, proclaiming that any mulatto children they had would be a defilement on his bloodline and the world.

Dave might have accused their forefathers of extramarital rape of African ‘servant‘ women, and thus their having darker cousins across the way, but it was hard to tell with his nerve endings on fire and his hair being pulled out by the roots. He probably did though, because one of them slapped him with the steely brush until he bled as they picked up with Rose‘s even more loathsome marriage and how they all stayed in the house together. (Like _human beings_ , Dave wanted to shout, and maybe he did.)

But if Dave made too much noise, then Karkat would come for him, be able to find him, and wasn‘t that a terrifying thought?

Then they stripped him the rest of the way, Dave‘s chest singing flared agony as he rolled around in the grass and tried to kick them. He lashed out close to the lantern, but he didn‘t have long enough to consider whether it would be worse to be left for dead with the sparks of a growing fire before it was moved farther back.

And when they did start applying the pine tar again, it was nearly too much to bear, and he finally screamed.

The constant attack on Dave‘s nerves must have made him a bit loopy, because his efforts to mentally distance himself weren‘t as in vain. He thought of the first time he‘d seen Kanaya smile at Rose; how he‘d known instantly that after all his illicit conversations with his sister, she‘d finally found someone who returned the deep affections she went to such lengths to hide. He remembered the way Rose had smiled when he introduced her and Karkat, managing to almost hide her smugness and looking just as relieved and pleased for him as he had been for her. He had a flash of Dirk‘s face the last time his older brother couldn‘t shield him from one of their father‘s blows, and the feeling a few months later after Dirk had never come home.

Something sharp whapped Dave‘s face but it didn‘t matter because he couldn‘t make out much in the flickering light. Definitely not if he didn‘t focus.

The rage steeped within him cried out for justice, even though Dave knew innately that the law would never be on his side. Even after he and Rose had married each other‘s loves, just for the scrap of whatever legal protection it was worth. Even after she and Kanaya crafted in the weekly women‘s sewing circle, networking like spies, and were always the first to offer help when someone‘s child was sick, or a family needed food or assistance or childcare when a woman gave birth. Even in this relatively diverse town, at least as far as midwestern European Americans were concerned, where everyone sat together in the same church on Sundays, fanning themselves and pretending not to be bored in the community central, socially required activity. Even if Dave saw how listlessly some of their neighbors prayed, and stayed out of the recurring gossip about his red eyes and Rose‘s light grey-purple ones, and their respective interracial marriages.

Blackness was creeping across Dave‘s vision, the same mix of comfort and terror as when he‘d been choked earlier - how long had it even been? - and he struggled to find a specific image in his memory. He‘d heard it was rare for someone to die by this tar and feathering business, but that didn‘t mean never. Just in case he really was dying, not that he could tell, he wanted to, _had to_ see Karkat‘s face again.

The only scene his mind could recreate was Karkat‘s expression from a few years before, shortly after the marriages and moving to this town to breathe a little easier. They‘d all sat down together, discussing the options as to how their strange four-person family could raise children. Rose had pointed out the most obvious and similarly most uncomfortable, laying out all the facts so they had the fullest options. Karkat had scrunched up his face in obvious discomfort and frown-scowled at her, making Dave chuckle when he managed, ”No offence, Rose, but the only person I want anywhere near my vicinity while naked is your brother.” Despite her level words, Rose had looked distantly relieved when he‘d said it. Dave had quickly raised his hands and affirmed to Kanaya that he felt the same, and they‘d agreed on it with a handshake, a halfsmile tugging at her lips.

As a result, these were the faces of his family that Dave recalled as he lost touch with torturous reality, illfitting and rather comical in the moment, but soothing nonetheless. As his senses left him drifting, Dave imagined he was floating away on a stream of fluffy down.

Waking up was such a clash of opposing feelings, Dave questioned whether he was actually awake at all. The way the throbbing pain across his entire body forced his brain into alertness the second it could, yet left his mind muddled like it was stumbling through fog while breathing in steam exhaust. The heat of his skin against the chilling air currents; how he wore nothing and yet the slightest movements of soft grass prickled, leaving his nerves burnt out.

Dave managed to stand, somehow, eventually, time having little meaning without any source of light or noise or people, and more so since he had no idea how long he‘d been asleep other than that there was no sign of ruddy dawn on the horizon, and he would certainly have woken or been awakened if he‘d lain there a full day. Moving to a three-point crouching stand to support himself in moving, Dave became aware of another opposition: he was wearing nothing but tar and black and white patches that were probably feathers, and for the first time in living memory, he couldn‘t have cared less. His shirt was only a little distance away, but the thought of clotheing himself was agony already, and while he was technically ‘in public‘, if he could make it back home with reasonable speed, no unfortunate early risers would be any the wiser.

Home, as if there were any locale in this forsaken country that had ever been a home with safety to him. The house, then, where his people, his real home, were waiting.

It took a very long time for Dave to make his way back, longer in the feeling of it for the shudders that wracked his system from the chill against his fever-pitch skin and the twinges that made his hands and feet shake. Some combination of air and movement cleared enough fog from his mind to be well aware of his burns, but apparently his enforced nap hadn‘t done any favors for his bone-deep exhaustion. He wasn‘t quite sure what he would have done had his tormentors still been there when he woke up. He just had to make it back, and then he could . .

Well, no, because as much as it would hurt and as badly as he wanted to sleep, removing the tarsap would only get worse as it solidified more. That would have to be first. Dave wasn‘t sure he could do it alone - scratch that, he was very sure he _couldn‘t_ do it alone - but it felt like such a terrible thing to subject anyone else to, make them see him like this.

He paused to lean on what was most likely someone‘s fence post, not that barbed wire kept either the rabbits or the deer out of a housewife‘s garden, and glanced down at where the thinner layer of tar on his forearm was marginally flakier. Dave shuddered his eyes closed, clenching his teeth together in preparation for what he was about to do, and ripped.

A loud wheeze was torn from his throat, a sort of strangled scream dying in his vocal cords and oh his throat was sore, that didn‘t bode well for refusing the mobbers their satisfaction, but he was still in too much pain to fully care.

Dave glimpsed a patch of angry red amidst the peppered white-black, and clearly felt the renewed throbbing. Any stubbornness that had convinced him to try that maneuver was abruptly gone, leaving Dave weak and shaking. He was the worst kind of human being, it was him, guilty of a dozen kinds of secondhand angst-infliction on the people he loved most, but there was no way in the illusive heavens or hells that he was doing this alone.

In a way, it made sense that this is what he got for finally building something good and true, if he was too weak-willed to take care of himself. His father was right, and his siblings and Karkat were delusional. He _was_ absolutely worthless.

This train of thought, with its self-loathing and parental hating vacillations, was what perversely allowed Dave the marginal strength to drag his tar-caked, self-sacrificing, and desperately needy self the rest of the way to the side of the house. He rested for a moment, hand gripping the rough hewn outside of his dwelling, and peeked around the corner to view the dusty street. There was no back door, of course; his family‘s comparatively fairly large house only had three rooms, and all were connected within instead of separated by a dogtrot as most rural ones were. The small street was very dark and, so far as Dave could tell, empty.

There was no obvious lantern light from inside the curtained house, for which Dave was greeted by devious twin strands of disappointment and relief, and the front door was closed at least, now. He couldn‘t make out any loud baby noises, which either meant someone had succeeded where he‘d left off, or something worse had happened with the influx of chill.

Oh, please, not the latter.

Dave reached the door, knuckles knocking against the wood as he attempted to get a shivering hand around the handle, but almost immediately the portal swung open under his hand to reveal a frazzled Karkat. The seep of warmth that went through Dave‘s chest upon seeing him was akin to pain itself, as he saw the mess of Karkat‘s naturally impossibly curled hair and the lines under his eyes, visible even backlit by the faint glow of a dimmed light.

They stared at each other for a few long seconds, Karkat watching him like he wasn‘t sure Dave was real. Abruptly, Karkat leaned forward to rub his cheek on Dave‘s, clearly wanting to kiss him, but still far too aware of the dangers of showing such affection, even on fully dark early mornings a few inches outside his door.

Karkat stepped back to let Dave enter, eyes still dancing around his face and the bruises and minor cuts that had to be there. He shut the door carefully and whispered, ”Oh god, I thought you were-- I didn‘t know what to think-- Rose said they took you, and she wouldn‘t let me go after you, and _I know_ ,” he added vehemently, preempting Dave‘s usual reminder, ”But she made me swear we wouldn‘t go after you until the sun was up。”

Relief washed through Dave once again at the thought on Rose‘s part. If he‘d still been out there come morning, they would have had a better chance of finding him, not being killed, and maybe even getting a little public relations in. Dave knew he could identify most of the men, certainly the three who‘d done all the chattering, but he wasn‘t sure what it would do to help their situation.

”Shall I go back out and wait for morning?” Dave tried to joke, managing a faint half-smirk. His voicebox sounded like it had been run over by a herd of antelope, with a few buffaloes for good measure.

By then, though, Karkat‘s eyes had flicked away from his face, and his face grew more horrified the more of Dave‘s body he saw. In the faint light, it was all too apparent what had happened. Which might have been for the best, because Dave definitely didn‘t have the words to explain. Karkat took a step back, and Dave felt paranoid anxiety clutch at his chest. This would be the moment Karkat decided enough was enough, he didn‘t really need or want this life of secrecy and stolen moments this badly. He was going to leave as soon as winter stopped hanging around in a few weeks, and Rose would be disgraced and Kanaya would blame Dave and their tiny patch of happiness and joy would erode as their still too-young children forgot their second father‘s face--

Dave was shaking, humiliation and fear and hope vibrating in his chest as he clenched his hands into fists.

”Rose, can you come in here?” Karkat‘s voice quavered as he called out softly to his legal wife.

Dave‘s sister appeared almost instantly, as though she had been ducked just out of sight in the bedroom to give the two of them a sense of privacy. She must have expected what she saw, both from her actions and because very little in general surprised Rose now-Vantas, but her eyes still widened at the sight of him, and she raised a splayed hand in front of her face. The action didn‘t hide her expression very well, just a couple fingers poised over her lips, but it was such a familiar reaction as Karkat‘s worried blustering had been that it lowered Dave‘s anxiety a little, despite the situation.

As usual, by the time Rose‘s hand slowly lowered back down, she was a woman with a plan. ”Sit down,” she said, still speaking quietly, ”Hot water should make it come off easier。”

She moved to the stove to grab a bucket for drawing water, and as she turned Dave saw the blooming bruise on her cheek, and from the way she winced as she bent down, the slap had been hard enough to injure her neck as well. Apparently the light wasn‘t flattering for either of them, even mostly shaded and pointed at a corner. Instantly Dave was awash with guilt, and opened his mouth without words at the ready, but between the raspiness in his throat and Rose‘s all-compassing eye, he didn‘t get the chance to speak.

”It‘s not your fault, Dave,” she said, face in one of her most gentle arrangements. ”There wasn‘t anything you could have done after I confronted that utter vermin of a man. I assure you, you still take the pastry in comparison to me,” her lip quirked at the last.

Rose trying humor to calm him down, what had his life come to?

Dave watched his feet as he approached the small table, filthy feet leaving smudges across the cleanish wood floor. Karkat must have stress-cleaned away the shoeprints left behind from his abductors. The other man had swiftly pulled out a chair for him, an old cloth napkin draped on the seat to mitigate the damage. Still, Dave paused without sitting.

”I‘ll just get this stuff all over。 It doesn‘t come off easy, you know。” This time he heard the catches in his own voice.

Karkat winced at the blunt reminder of how painful this was going to be, but rolled his eyes. ”You‘re much more important than some chair。”

”What about the floor? I happen to know half a dozen shoes tromped through here a few hours ago, and yet there‘s hardly a dust mote to be found,” Dave attempted a small grin. It felt wonderful to take his weight off his feet, even if it wasn‘t much better on his backside. He didn‘t quite dare to see the damage to his soles, not to mention the pain of twisting himself in a knot to look at them.

”They‘re worth less than the street dust they brought in,” Karkat growled, eyes alight and furious as he pulled another seat over to sit across from Dave with no table between them.

The diffused light reflected off the wall shone faintly on the feathers coating his arms, dark greens and blues seeping from dark plumage. Dave plucked a loose top one off to see it better, receiving only a faint sting for his efforts. The corvus quill was long and sleek in contrast to the short and fluffed chicken down that covered most of his body, for the greatest torment in removal. Dave scoffed, opening his hand to let the avian detritus float to the floor. It figured that he couldn‘t escape crows, even in this.

Somehow, the renewed if patchy visual stimulus was making his eyes swim and burn with the effort to focus them. He tilted his head toward the ceiling in an effort to unkink his neck, keeping his eyelids closed despite the itch.

”I‘m sorry, ‘Kat。 I should have been more careful when I voted,” he sighed heavily.

Dave felt Karkat take his hand, despite the filth and sap. ”Is that what they said? Never mind, it doesn‘t matter。 If it wasn‘t from you voting Republican, it would have been something else because we‘re irreparably cursed by the whole ass-backwards world。” Dave granted him a mirthless half-chuckle.

”Besides, we have to make the one ballot from this family count,” Karkat pointed out, and that was sadly true.

Rustling from Rose returning with extra wood and water interrupted them, as Karkat stood to help her with the stove. With the nights still cold in the remnants of winter, the wood-burning device smoldered through the night with the air intake valve largely closed to prolong its warmth. Even so, mornings were usually chilly affairs before the ash was cleared and wood added to reignite the embers.

When Karkat sat back down, he handed Dave a wet cloth, which Dave gratefully took to task on his face, neck, and hands. He set the darkened material on the table, and only had a moment to turn back to Karkat before there were lips on his and a warm hand gently cupping his jaw. Dave melted immediately, content to have this moment without either of them deepening the kiss. Then Karkat‘s lightly trailing hand caught on the cheek where Dave had been punched, slapped a few times, and then slept on. He hissed in a breath, causing Karkat to back off and wince at his face.

”Sorry, I。 Couldn‘t tell if it was the dirt or a bruise, before。” Karkat lowered his hand, but Dave caught it, and he smiled. ”You want some water?”

Dave huffed a laugh at that, leaning in to give him another peck. ”I get the feeling I‘m about to be up to my feathery tits in water in a bit, but sure。”

Karkat made a face like he couldn‘t decide whether to scowl at Dave‘s comment or smile at him. Rose, as the precognizant and (entirely metaphorically) heavenly maiden she was, thunked down a cup on her way by. The liquid was relief to Dave‘s crackling throat, the well-water heated enough to take the edge of its typical bone-deep freezing properties.

Quiet laughter - always quiet, just in case - and a smirk from Karkat followed that thought, though whether it was a case of Dave rambling without realizing it or his expression was anyone‘s guess. Certainly not Dave‘s, when he was too drunk on the sound to try and untangle his ever illusive brain-to-mouth connection.

Leaving the stove to do its thing, Rose came over to inspect Dave‘s more obvious injuries. Cool fingers flitted over his heated skin as she pushed back his ghostly light hair and nudged his chin up. Dave flicked his attention from Karkat‘s gaze to Rose‘s, and caught her frown. He reached a hand up to pat at where she‘d pulled his matted, stained hair back and . . oh right, there had definitely been stones in that field because he remembered the lantern being set on a couple of them.

”I‘m getting Kanaya。” Rose stepped back. ”She‘s excellent with a needle。”

Reaching out reflexively to stop her, Dave blurted, ”No.” The hand still connecting him to Karkat froze. ”I mean, so are you。”

”She cares about you as much as we do, Dave。 I have no doubts about her whole-hearted assistance in this。” She spoke carefully, and Dave was struck with a flash of uncertainty at how much his eyes showed. Did they see him as some terrified thing, wild-eyed and fending off as many people as he could get away with - not that he wasn‘t - or was this his sister‘s typical character calculation?

”But she‘s sleeping or she‘d be out here already, which means she was the one to calm the kids, wasn‘t she? So you shouldn‘t wake her。 Someone has to be alert tomorrow, for the usual, and in case all hell breaks loose,” Dave summoned the pieces his brain had accumulated as always, and rammed his logic together as though the hope would save him.

Rose watched him, unconvinced, and like she was waiting for his true thoughts to surface. After a long moment of searching his face, she must have found what she wanted, and conceded, ”The children _are_ sleeping with Kanaya。”

It was bad enough that Dave was a helpless and effectively naked ball of pity in front of both his love and his sister. There was no way in hell he was going to inflict that on Kanaya as well, not when they had a mutual respect of each other that he didn‘t want to see come crashing down, especially when he probably looked like he‘d come out the wrong side of a chicken fight in one of Yellowstone‘s mud pots. He was just grateful Karkat hadn‘t let go of his hand, yet.

The silence was thick as Rose moved to the stove, pouring heated water spliced with cold into an unused pot. Dave gave her a curious look as she set it by his chair - the water was hardly even steaming.

”Your feet are a mess,” she told him frankly. ”And it will be a while longer before the water is enough in quantity and temperature to soften the tar。”

It was a shock to Dave‘s system at first, dipping his freezing feet into the container of warmth, but slowly he felt himself relaxing. The water lapped midway up his calves, uncomfortable on his sensitive flesh but not terribly so. Dave leaned forward, feeling the hardened pine tar stretch all across his body, and was shamefully relieved when Karkat pushed him back straight and reached in with both hands himself, rubbing careful circles to remove the blood, dust, and sharp gritty cobbles. Having brought over the few jars of natural ointments the four of them owned, Rose set to work on the problem on Dave‘s head.

The constant stinging and throbbing dulled somewhat as Dave let himself appreciate their caring movements, and relaxed enough that the chair back wasn‘t digging into his spine. Unfortunately, by the time that was finished a few minutes later, his tongue loosened as well.

”Iz not that I don‘ think she doe‘n‘t have the skill or motivation to be a kick-ass healer,” he slurred, not aware at first that he was speaking at all. ” ‘Cause I know for a fact she does, we‘ve all seen it。 There‘s more patience for bull in her on a given day than in the rest of us combined for a‘ few weeks, like have you seen how she deals with the ki--, uh, anyway。” Dave was aware he was rambling, but this was a frequent occurrence both within and without his train of thought, and nobody else was saying anything to ring the alarm bells on the locomotive that should have put the engine in full stop and reverse. ”Iz jus‘ I don‘ think she should have to deal with that, ya know, here I am bleedin‘ tar across the house and not able to do anything for myself ‘sides sit stiller than a bump on a log while you have to deal with it, ‘cause you‘re both bleedin‘ idiots who chose me a while back but she shouldn‘t have to pay like that for the misfortune of legally tying herself to me--” Dave broke off, realizing his voice had fallen to a whisper and his chest was heaving in a way that was making his ribs sting with each breath.

There was a sharp exhale from in front of him, the familiar sound of a very concerned Karkat, and Dave was abruptly punched back into clarity. Because of course he chose right now to vent his malformed subconscious worries to the one person who experienced self-loathing stronger than he did, _and_ when said person was already keeping him from physically going into shock and hopefully dealing with most of this before the children woke up and saw one of their fathers looking half-dead and mangled. Dave kept his gaze fixed on the scratches in the table, as if boring a hole through the wood would erase Karkat‘s eyes and his own mortification.

”Karkat, would you please draw another couple of buckets from the well?” Rose sounded calm, too calm.

The other man hesitated, but came to his feet in a swift motion and was gone in a few seconds. Rose waited for the door to close fully before she continued wryly, ”That is going to be the fastest water drawn this side of the Mississippi。”

Dave knew full well what his sister was doing, even as she knelt by the side of his chair and brushed his hand with her own. It never failed to crack him up how seriously Rose treated casual touches, when left to their own devices both the men in her life were always finding ways to subtly show affection.

”Dave,” Rose said, and he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, having a lifetime of experience with the magnetism of her grey-purple ones. ”I know you, and I know that you and Karkat are beyond a shadow of a doubt going to have a very long, looping conversation about this in the next day or so, and I would like to give you my two cents anyway。”

”I doubt I could stop you at this point,” Dave muttered, his words lacking any real heat.

Rose smiled in her all-knowing yet comforting way. ”Be that as it may, I strongly believe that Kanaya would not see you any less for being an aggravatingly noble and self-sacrificing member of this family。 Which you are, however you deny it。 Your relationship is more than your being her legal husband, or her being Karkat‘s cousin, just like how Karkat and I have a bond beyond either of our relations to you。”

Dave opened his mouth to object that of course he knew _that_ , he got along with his cousin-in-law quite well, thank you, but Rose raised a hand to cut him off. ”Therefore, you cannot expect her to be any less worried about your well-being, especially when you end up taking the brunt of a given person‘s wrath, or any less torn up about the fact that you might not have come home at all。” Rose‘s voice was shaking, still controlled but clear to Dave‘s well-trained ears. She inhaled and continued softer, ”And you shouldn‘t beat yourself up about it in endless rounds of - how does Karkat put it, self-flagellation - because we all understood the risks of our way of life before we came out here and ended up wading through the mire three feet deep。 I am, and we are, grateful for what protection you give, Dave, and don‘t want you to suffer alone when you absolutely do not have to。 Life is too short for the four of us to be endlessly paying off imagined soul-deep debts like so many chickens。”

He turned to look her straight in her slightly red eyes. ”Thanks, Rose。 That does make me feel . . mildly better。 And you know, I think that was the most metaphors I‘ve ever heard you use in one sitting before。”

Rose chuckled, and glanced down at his opened arms.

”I know it‘s a pretty dirty invitation, in the actual dirt way, but。”

She rolled her eyes and leaned in to his embrace for a short but meaningful hug. Dave automatically tensed at the sound of the creaking door, watching over her shoulder as Karkat returned loaded down with the two requisitioned pails. He set them by the stove with a grunt, narrowly avoiding water slopping across the wood floor as he did.

Rose stood with a somewhat grayer dress, surreptitiously wiping an eye as she checked on the bubbling pots. Karkat glanced over at Dave, checking him over for additional harm, but ultimately turned back to Rose, helping her wrestle one steaming pot at a time over to the small metal tub in the corner of the kitchen/main room/dining area. With the next round of water on to warm and the tub as always only partially full, the three of them began the next step of this egregious affair, or at least remedying what had already happened.

Sinking awkwardly into the tub, Dave couldn‘t help but force a laugh. ”Hell, if I knew earlier that all I had to do for a piping hot bath was get myself heroically kidnapped, we could have done this ages ago。” All he received for his efforts were tight smiles and a reappearance of the collided worried-yet-hopeful tension, but Dave would contort himself like a regular Pierrot to make his people feel better.

Not that bathing was a novel affair in and of itself, but without pipes to bring in water or a boiler to heat it quickly, anything other than an icy pour over straight from the well became a bit of a hot commodity. Dave knew for a fact most people in the semi-frontier towns did not bathe as often as they did - hell, most people in the city with similar situations likely didn‘t have the chance to either. Kanaya and Rose held high standards of cleanliness, however, (the former especially; it was a very good thing Karkat himself was a neat freak) and ensured the children had lukewarm baths every two days, if not sooner with the messes they got into. The adults had a well-established rotating schedule that allowed whoever was on bath duty with the kids their own (very) soaking experience at least once a week, albeit never so thoroughly heated as this. Like everything else in the house the tub pulled several duties, doubling as a washbasin for the laundry, a storage for random crap during Karkat‘s cleaning tizzies, an overflow for the shallow pan of a sink whenever a major feast was cooked, and occasionally a temporary icebox when there was fish.

Despite Rose‘s apparent belief in the healing properties of herbs and steam, Dave wasn‘t actually sure that submersing himself in hot water was softening the tar and definitely did not want to boil it completely to find out. After a few minutes of hyperaware silence, Karkat and Rose piddling around the kitchen to keep themselves busy and everyone flinching at any sudden noise, Dave decided he might as well take the opportunity to deal with his still filthy face and hair, doing the best he could when his entire body felt rubbed raw with a washing board.

A few minutes after that, the water noticeably having lost its steam and some of its heat to the metal container, he caught a flashed Look pass between Rose and Karkat before the latter came over to him with a serious expression. Dave shifted to be more upright, sweeping up a skim of loose feathers that had detached themselves from him with one hand with as blank a face as he could master.

Karkat pulled a face, a cohesion of grimace and guilt, passing a bucket over to drop the refuse into - and keeping it nearby. ”Dave, . . this is going to be very painful,” he said reluctantly. Dave bit down his automatic quip about stating the obvious and reached out to lay a hand over his, waiting for what Karkat really meant and was leading up to. ”Are you sure you don‘t want to take something to dull it, enough to make it bearable?”

Dave tensed immediately, because they‘d had talked about this before; Dave‘s stringent avoidance of alcohol wasn‘t any more subtle in the city with bars around every corner than it was out here. People drank their cares away in every part of the world.

”We probably have something old stashed from one of those un-churchy welcoming gifts。 I‘d get you ether, but there‘s no way the doc is awake yet - even if he‘s not part of the whole thing - and it‘s even less safe than usual if we tried to steal a bottle and dose you ourselves,” Karkat continued, struggling to hold his gaze. Dave remembered the visit to the doctor after their oldest daughter broke her arm, both for the disturbingly efficient way she‘d succumbed to unconsciousness and for the not-quite-sneering glances the man had shot Kanaya the entire time, going so far as to comment on their daughter‘s ‘unusually light skin‘.

Glancing away, Dave shook his head mutely.

A warm hand cupped his face, pulling him gently back into focus. ”You are not your parents, Dave。 It won‘t happen。”

”I can handle it,” he insisted. The irony of how he was pleading to engage in his more masochistic tendencies when he wasn‘t even the sibling who‘d gotten drunk out of his mind did not escape him. Nonetheless, he‘d seen time and again the spiderweb-like relationship his family had with liquor, and did not feel the need to see the fatally alluring cycle of entrapment repeated. Rose had been sober for several years, never more than sipping at her drink politely in a social setting, but the old fear beaten into him by his mother‘s words, father‘s deadly calm rages, and all three of their ineffective coping mechanisms still haunted him if she happened to regard a bottle of whiskey a little too long.

Karkat gave him a resigned look as he turned away and Dave managed to feel even worse. This was the whole reason he hadn‘t wanted to run right back in the first place, that this would be just as torturous for Karkat as it would be for him if not more so, but he remembered Rose‘s words of affirmation and tried to staunch the feeling. For whatever reason, these brilliant, empathetic people had decided he was worth the pain and suffering he brought with and he wasn‘t about to let their sacrifices go unacknowledged by being a vulnerable, antisocial prick over it.

Rose appeared with several steaming, soaked cloths for his back while he was stamping down his self-culpability. She gave him a small smile, a wry twist of her lips more than anything, as she took his arm. The tar had softened somewhat, which made it harder to pull off in chunks if easier to separate from the coating of feathers on top.

Having the mostly-dried substance removed was everything Dave remembered from his experimentation earlier, searing agony as each strip took some skin with it and left the remaining epidermis deep red. Dave helped for a while, picking at the more socially uncomfortable areas around his upper thighs and lower waist - and uncovering the tar-caked remnants of his drawers in the process, a minor relief from further embarrassment - but by the time Rose and Karkat had started on his back a couple of hours later he was shaking too much to keep trying.

The cloudy water had cooled despite Rose pulling the oilskin sheet across the tub to keep the remaining steam from escaping after Dave vacated it, and the others alternated between patting his back with it and adding to the collection of tarry feathers beside them. The liquid was icy cold against Dave‘s burning skin, equal parts soothing and shocking. Karkat murmured apologies every time a particularly large chunk was ripped off. He would occasionally switch the hand that was clutched over Dave‘s for the other that inflicted well-meaning lacerations, his touch a better anesthetic than all three cups of Rose‘s willow bark tea.

Overwhelmed and feelings uselessly unproductive, Dave could only sit with his face buried in his arms and shiver, tears of silent pain leaking from his eyes. He could recall very few times in his life that he‘d cried at all, let alone in front of someone else; the fibers of his being not caught up in the screaming agony of his nerves rebelled in utter humiliation and threatened to mutiny if Dave continued to do nothing. They were abandoning ship right now, throwing off the wounded and leaving the supplies to rot. Someone had slipped on deck and hadn‘t bothered to put out the fire of their broken lantern and now the flames were engulfing the wood ship, only a few feet away from the kitchen and waiting to explode. The ocean was right there, salty waves of succor so close but there was no bucket line left to bring it over. Those turncoats had fled to the high seas and there wasn‘t so much as a cook‘s boy to help Dave dunk his head in the . .

He was literally going insane right now. They might be able to repurpose his body, but his mind was well and truly gone. There was nothing left.

Somehow, he wasn‘t really feeling the burning across his entire integumentary system anymore, though whether or not this was an improvement or a more long-term health issue remained to be contemplated when he could think again. Disassociation? Was that a thing? Did he have a history of - wait no, he wasn‘t playing a game of medical twenty questions inside his head right now. Hell no. Disassociation, if that‘s what it was, was totally fine.

The sky had lightened to purple-streaked grey by the time Dave‘s body was deemed no longer a warzone and more of a minor burn victim‘s battlefield, which meant that the neighbors were waking up and it was actually something of a miracle that neither Kanaya nor any of the children had wandered in for the day. Constellations of dark speckles remained and would no doubt take several days to wear off, but almost all of Dave‘s hellfire-red skin had been freed, leaving behind intermittent patches of body hair and darkening bruises.

”You should both get some sleep,” Rose said at last. Her spine popped as she straightened and brushed off her apron. ”Don‘t protest. It will be a long day for all of us, and I at least was able to take a small nap while Karkat waited up.”

Ashamed that he didn‘t have the intestinal fortitude to pass up that offer, Dave twisted his mouth in a grimace when Rose stared pointedly at him. Karkat opened his mouth, but she cut him off as well.

”Go. To. Sleep. Kanaya and I will be able to handle everything just fine for a day without tripping over the two of you constantly in the process。” She shooed them toward the back of the house with her hands and confiscated the bucket of blackened evidence.

Dave leaned a little heavier on Karkat as he stood, grey-yellow spots dancing across his vision helpfully. The other man slung an arm around his waist; Dave did his best not to wince as his ribs ached in response. By the time they reached the bedroom door, Rose had already efficiently reswept the floor, put another pot on to boil, and was dealing with the dirty laundry. Dave smiled tiredly at her back, knowing she couldn‘t see. His sister was the pinnacle of pragmatism and the best necromantic angle he‘d ever met.

He peered in the other bedroom doorway to see Kanaya still asleep with three smaller lumps curled up around her. His cold, achy heart warmed at the sight. He loved his family so much; his sister, his love, his legal wife, their adopted daughters and sons. He‘d do anything to keep them safe.

Shutting the bedroom door blocked out nearly all the light, with the only windows being in the front room. Dave was fairly certain he could have fallen asleep standing up in broad daylight at this point, but the gesture would deter any young hands with loud voices from waking either of them. Karkat didn‘t bother to light a candle, instead rifling through their combined mess of clothing in the cabinet by feel alone and coming up successfully with what he was searching for in short order while Dave‘s eyes adjusted the rest of the way.

”Here。” Karkat’s hands found his and delivered a set of clean, dry garments - drawers and socks, to replace what had been lost or ruined that night. “I don’t want you catching a chill just because you’re too languorously tired to bother changing like a tried and true imbecile,” he added gruffly. “Though I figured a shirt would be too much for your back。”

Dave gave him an appreciative smile, allowing himself a moment to stare into Karkat’s dark brown eyes, familiar pools of fondness. He tried to change quickly, but wound up leaning against the wall for support between his thrumming head and the clinging wetness of what was left of his clothes. Karkat was waiting for him with one blanket already drawn up by the time Dave settled down on the thin but quality cotton mattress, feeling the crisscross of ropes beneath sag worryingly with his weight and adding a mental reminder to ask the neighbors if he could borrow their bed wench with which to tighten them. That was, if the neighbors were still on speaking terms instead of trying not to make themselves targets of any future violence. Dave exhaled his frustrations. At least the sheets weren’t unduly irritating his traumatized skin.

Like sleeping on a minor slope, Karkat and Dave were drawn together by the dip in the ropes. Karkat seemed to be trying to fight the pull and leave Dave some space, holding himself a space away to spare Dave the contact. Dave wasn’t quite sure of the point - they both knew how tactile they were, and without a doubt Karkat would be wrapped around him by the time they woke. And while the weight of the woolen blankets and quilt were usually enough for this time of year, Dave had been out in the nipping cold for the better part of the night; his feet had started to refreeze after his dunk in Rose’s water, he was still largely broken out in gooseflesh, and while layers worked wonders for insulation there had to be some sort of heat to begin with. Dave moved an arm over Karkat’s waist and gently tugged them closer together, aided by the ailing rope frame. Karkat responded without hesitation, wrapping a limb around him in turn and tangling their legs.

“Your feet are _freezing_ ,” Karkat gasped after scarcely a moment. He ducked down to catch one of Dave’s calves and tugged the woolen sock off, only shivering once as he rested the appendage against his own bare thigh.

The seeping physical warm was nothing to the swelling catch in Dave’s chest at the gesture. He rested a hand against Karkat’s neck, thumb on his cheek and forefinger tucking a set of stray curls behind his ear. “What did I do to deserve you, ‘Kat?” he whispered, awed yet again.

Karkat’s brows furrowed. “I could ask you the same question, you loon, but I don’t think either of us particularly want to get into the details at this time of morning。 If you really want to rehash all the reasons why we agreed not to go down that rabbit hole of self-detriment, we can chalk it all up again when we discuss why you’re a person worthy of affection, respect, and not having to face things like tar removal alone when you have a family here to support you - don’t think I’ve forgotten about that - because sometimes the both of us need a reminder to get it through our thick skulls。”

Dave’s lips twitched weakly, trying to curve for Karkat’s benefit, but his mind flashed back to foggily staggering away from a fence post. “I’m not worth it, ‘Kat,” he shook his head. “Just look at how much time you have to spend digging me out of my own head. You could have had someone else, who--”

Several fingers interrupted his spiel by tilting his jaw closed - a feat of astounding proportions only possible because of Dave’s whispering and general incoherency - and Karkat cut off his resulting chuff of protest. “Let me stop you right there. I chose you because you’re a genuinely good person with his head on straight who has a set of morals and philosophy of life that he actually follows, and sure, every once in a while we have talks like this but who doesn’t? It would be downright monotonous if nothing went wrong; besides, I’m far more culprit than you for inciting Interventions™,” he scoffed. “And let’s be real, I wasn’t likely to find anyone else with all the necessary filled out checkboxes even if I had kept searching or whatever nonsense you’re implying, and I don’t regret it a single ounce.” He paused, and Dave felt as if he were mere pieces of a person scattered to the winds; different than being picked apart by Rose, but no less harrowing. “Unless, . . you regret it。 Choosing this。”

“Hell no-- absolutely not-- I’m!” Dave tried to organize his thoughts to form a proper vehement protest. Bone-weary, he settled for an emphatic, “I want nothing more than to have you by my side, and I will do whatever it takes to protect our family. You’re a beautiful person straight to your soul, and I couldn’t possibly ask for better。”

Karkat ducked his head into Dave’s shoulder to hide his face, and whispered, “You are, too, Dave。You galumphing eejit。”

They both stayed quiet after that, breathing evening out and limbs relaxing into the fuzzy consciousness barrier between sleep and wakefulness. Dave idly considered whether they would be better off leaving this town and heading west for the true boonies with the next handcart train that came through in the spring. His brain muddled vicariously lived images together into a vignette of the eight of them together in far-off Oregon with its rolling hills and rich soil, building their house and working their farmland miles from all the neighbors, where perhaps fellow travelers would look more kindly towards a mixed-race family. It was a naive dream, of course, but it wasn’t like they would have much more of a support system in this town if things took a turn for the worst. Perhaps it would be best to leave soon before they could not. Certainly, it was something to bring up with Kanaya, Rose, and Karkat in the next few days after the fallout slid however it was going to.

Dave kept his arms firmly around the man beside him and let his comforting presence lead his thoughts away from the land of the waking world. This time, though, when he did not fight the dying of the light behind his eyelids, he did not feel guilty about the submission. Karkat would be here with him when he woke, and his sister and Kanaya would be only in the next room with their children. The last thing he knew was a gentle Kanaya-esque shoosh as sleepy-excited voices began their daily clamour.

**Author's Note:**

> I swear one of these days I will actually finish something. There are literally five or six different fics I‘m currently working on and none of them are getting done.  
> Close relationships for trolls-in-laws are my jam. (Credit where credit is due to [itsdave for coining that phrase](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24841537).) There may only be eighty total fics for Kanaya & Dave and Karkat & Rose combined, but I Will Make This A Thing.
> 
> **Historical note for anyone interested**  
> As often as the Republican and Democrat parties swapped sides on issues and policy during American history, what‘s mentioned here doesn‘t reflect today‘s party lines. The Republican party, especially after the Civil War (early 1860s), was the champion of the ‘minorities‘, whereas the Democrat party was based in the south and favored the working class, at least in theory. This doesn‘t change until FD Roosevelt with the New Deal in the 1930s (a full human lifespan later!), after which African Americans switched allegiances and the Republican party became known for its support of industry.


End file.
